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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29323836">Summoning Desire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJ_Constantine/pseuds/AJ_Constantine'>AJ_Constantine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Demon Summoning, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Sexual Roleplay, Sub Crowley (Good Omens), hand gag</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:22:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29323836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJ_Constantine/pseuds/AJ_Constantine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A thrill skittered down Crowley’s spine as he looked around the circle. He pressed his palm hard against the barrier, which sent an odd tingle down his arm matching the trickling shiver building within him. He flashed a look at Aziraphale and then shoved, kicked and even hurled himself against the barrier, which held completely solid despite his endeavors. Finally he stopped and stepped back, his breathing quickened with something more than simple exertion as he looked back at Aziraphale, who had been waiting patiently for him to give up. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Clever, clever angel,” he breathed. The thrumming thrill inside of him increased with anticipation. “So what now?”</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Ixnael’s Recommendations, Top Aziraphale Recs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Summoning Desire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteleyFoster/gifts">WhiteleyFoster</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <i>This story is dedicated to the astonishingly talented artist <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteleyFoster/works">Whiteley Foster</a>, who requested a demon summoning kink fic and this story just exploded in my brain. It’s inspired from two pieces of artwork she created that I really wish I could show you as they are simply amazing; but if you’re supporters of her on Patreon you can see them there and give her all of the love that she deserves. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Today is my Ficaversary!! (My 1 year celebration of posting work on AO3.) And what a year of writing it's been! I'm astonished to have written 206,201 words, posted 5 stories, a total of 46 chapters, and experienced the delightfully wonderful outpouring of positive support from my readers.</i>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A comfortable silence had settled in the quiet afternoon of the closed bookshop like a soft blanket; the only muted sounds the occasional rustle of a page or the tink of a porcelain cup settling onto a saucer. Aziraphale closed his book and set it down with a satisfied sigh, which caused Crowley to glance up from where he was sprawled on the couch. Aziraphale then heaved himself up from his armchair and stretched. Crowley went back to lazily scrolling through articles on his phone about a car the Americans had recently launched into space, feeling warm admiration of the special kind of crazy that obscenely rich humans managed to pull off. He idly contemplated how he could have spun that into a commendation back in the era of his obligatory reports to Hell. </p><p>“Would you like some more tea?” Aziraphale asked. “I think I have more of that smoked tea we bought in Japan. You liked that one."  </p><p>Crowley rubbed at his cheek, which was sleep wrinkled from being mashed on his arm during his recent nap. “Nah, I should get going. Gotta go spread foment, that sort of thing.”</p><p>Aziraphale paused on his way to the kitchenette, teapot in hand. “Ah, before you go… I’ve been doing some research into that topic we discussed recently. I was thinking that we should talk about it some more.”</p><p>Crowley kept his eyes glued to the screen as he shook his head firmly. “Nuh uh.”</p><p>Aziraphale frowned. “Crowley. I don’t want to do something that makes you uncomfortable.”</p><p>Crowley shoved his phone into his pocket and stood up from the couch, reaching for the coat he’d tossed on the back of it. The comfortable mood in the room turned thick and heavy, a nearly tangible weight as Crowley put his coat on, determinedly looking away from the angel watching him. He took his time smoothing down his coat and sliding his sunglasses over his eyes in a study of nonchalance that wouldn’t have fooled a preschooler before flicking a glance at Aziraphale.  </p><p>He took an abortive step towards the door, paused, and muttered, “Look, it was hard enough for me to tell you that… stuff. I can’t…” He shook his head. </p><p>Aziraphale set down the teapot and walked over to reach out and place his hand on Crowley’s arm, fingers curled around his bicep in a silent question. When Crowley didn’t pull away he tugged to pull him into his arms, running his hand soothingly down Crowley’s shoulder length hair. </p><p>“All right my dear. Just one question then. Is this something that you still want?”</p><p>Crowley buried his head into Aziraphale’s neck and nodded. </p><p>Aziraphale pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’ll take care of you, my dearest. Always remember that I love you very much.”</p><p>Crowley mumbled something that may have resembled an affirmative, leaning into Aziraphale briefly before pulling away, his eyes suspiciously bright but conveniently hidden behind his sunglasses as he left the bookshop. </p><p> </p><p>In the following weeks they meandered through their usual routine. At restaurants Crowley ordered items he thought might tempt the angel and then nudged his plate over when blue eyes slid over covetously. They strolled through parks where Crowley miracled puddles dry before Aziraphale’s Oxfords ventured near them. Despite the intermittent drizzling skies, on more than one occasion a surprised ice cream cart vendor found himself selling his wares at the park when Aziraphale mentioned feeling a nostalgic desire for a summertime treat. After debating the merits of various theatre productions, Crowley would inevitably produce tickets with affected casualness to any the angel fancied. </p><p>During this time, Crowley resolutely did not think about the discussion they were absolutely not having. A coiled tension in the dim recesses of his mind was constantly present, waiting, wondering, but Aziraphale didn’t broach the subject again. </p><p> </p><p>He had managed to put all thoughts of it aside as he was getting ready in his flat to meet up with an Irishman he had struck up a friendship with over their mutual love of putting away copious amounts of alcohol. Peering into the mirror as he gathered his hair back into a low ponytail he felt the oddest sensation come over his body. He looked down at himself in puzzlement and faint alarm. It was as if he felt a unnatural pull to be elsewhere, the very atoms of his corporation vibrating like a demented tuning fork.</p><p>He barely had time to yelp in surprise as he collapsed into himself, folding impossibly small and hurtling through a blurred tunnel before unfolding with a pop that sent pinprick tingles all over his corporation. A surge of vertigo hit him as he stumbled on feet that were entirely incapable of holding him upright and he flailed, trying to catch himself but landing on his arse in a scramble of limbs. </p><p>His head snapped up as he heard a shuffling noise. The flare of fear that had spiked within his chest dissipated entirely when he saw Aziraphale step from a shadowed corner of the room, gently closing a book that looked ancient; the edge of the pages a harsh wind away from flaking into dust. He was inexplicably wearing what appeared to be some kind of white robe or cassock that was buttoned down the front, wide gold panels of brocade gleaming on either side of the buttons and at the wrists.</p><p>"Angel?” he said, bemused. He blinked as he took in Aziraphale’s ornate robe. “Or should I call you ‘Pope Aziraphale’? What the Heaven are you wearing? I know I've told you that you should update your look, but I meant something closer to 1990, not 1890."</p><p>Aziraphale's lips twitched as though he was trying not to laugh. “How do you feel?” he asked, giving him a small smile with something slightly mischievous lurking at the edges. </p><p>Crowley’s brow furrowed as he took stock of his corporation. “Uh, fine, I guess? Felt a bit weird getting here. If you wanted me to come over to—” he looked around the small dimly lit empty room. “—wherever we are you could have just called.”</p><p>“True,” Aziraphale said mildly. “How about you try to come over to where I am?”</p><p>Crowley pushed himself upright. As he stood he realized he was standing in the middle of a large circle of lit candles that provided a flickering illumination to the dark room. As a trickling suspicion began to unfold in his mind Crowley raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale, who merely waited expectantly. He paused, then walked over, but as soon as he reached the edge of the circle he rebounded against something he couldn’t see. </p><p>“What?” He reached out a hand but it wouldn’t pass through an invisible barrier. He looked at Aziraphale in astonishment, who appeared to be quite pleased with himself. </p><p>Crowley looked down and realized that the candles were placed on the outside of a thick line of salt, and he turned to see golden lines of an elaborate pentagram painted on the hardwood floor, with tiny characters of a language he didn’t recognize written on each side of the lines throughout the design.</p><p>Stunned, he looked back at Aziraphale. “Is this really—? I thought we would just, uh, pretend. I can’t believe you <i>actually</i> managed to do it.”</p><p>Aziraphale dipped his head, as if modest, but was practically bouncing on his toes with smug satisfaction as he said, “Do try to get out.”<br/>
</p><p>A thrill skittered down Crowley’s spine as he looked around the circle. He pressed his palm hard against the barrier, which sent an odd tingle down his arm matching the trickling shiver building within him. He flashed a look at Aziraphale and then shoved, kicked and even hurled himself against the barrier, which held completely solid despite his endeavors. Finally he stopped and stepped back, his breathing quickened with something more than simple exertion as he looked back at Aziraphale, who had been waiting patiently for him to give up.<br/>
</p><p>
“Clever, clever angel,” he breathed. The thrumming thrill inside of him increased with anticipation. “So what now?”</p><p>Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully as if assessing an experiment. “So obviously you can’t push past the barrier. Is there any other way you can get through?”</p><p>Crowley narrowed his eyes, then concentrated, trying to teleport himself past the circle. Nothing happened. He blinked, then snapped his fingers to will a glass of wine into existence. Nothing happened. He snapped again and again, trying to do any sort of miracle, but his powers remained stubbornly elusive. He was helpless.<br/>
</p><p>
He looked up at Aziraphale, wonderstruck. “I can’t—” Words failed him as he felt that shimmery thrill within him rise up with the force of a tidal wave pulled by the moon. He had imagined, but <i>this</i>— this was so much<i> more</i> than the tantalizing shadowy scenario that had been lurking in the dark part of his mind for centuries.</p><p>Aziraphale frowned and made an hesitant step forward, then stopped himself. “Crowley. What is the safeword we discussed?”<br/>
</p><p>
Oh. Aziraphale looked concerned. That wouldn’t do. Crowley’s voice came out raspy as he said, “Jabberwocky.” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded, holding his eyes. “That’s right. Do you want to use that word now? I’ll break the circle in an instant if that’s what you wish.”</p><p>Crowley felt the weight of Aziraphale’s gaze hold him steady, grounding him as he took a shuddering breath. This was what he had asked for. To be utterly and completely helpless. At Aziraphale’s mercy. Something inside of him shifted, settled, began to spread though his limbs like a soothing tonic.<br/>
</p><p>
With an effort, he managed to pull his scattered thoughts together enough to remember the scenario they had talked about. Suppressing the shuddering impulse to fling himself at the angel’s feet, —<i>not yet</i>— he looked at Aziraphale with a smirk.</p><p>“Looksss like you’ve caught me. Ssso angel, what are you going to about it?”  </p><p>The tension in Aziraphale’s shoulders eased as he smiled slowly. He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts, then said, “My, my. You’re rather unusually attractive for a demon. I had in mind to make you—” he seemed to cast about for something suitably demonic, “—ah, make it so all audio books would only play <i>The Sound of Music</i>.”</p><p>Crowley snorted at that. </p><p>“But now that I have you at my mercy I believe I can think of <i>much</i> better uses for your talents.”</p><p>He looked Crowley up and down assessingly, and then commanded, “Remove your clothes, demon.”   </p><p>Crowley smirked. “Make me.”</p><p>Aziraphale affected a bored air as he examined his fingernails. “You seem to be under the mistaken notion that you have control over this situation, my dear. Let me assure you—” he flicked his eyes up to look at Crowley piercingly. “—you do not.”</p><p>He set his book down carefully and walked closer to the edge of the pentagram. “You are utterly—” he waved his hand and Crowley’s arms were pinned to his sides. “at my mercy.”</p><p>Crowley tried to move his arms but couldn’t budge them. It was as if he were encased in concrete. After twisting around in vain, staggering on his legs, he stopped and peered at Aziraphale, the tangible feeling of absolute power the angel had over him sinking into his core and settling into a delicious rising heat.  </p><p>“So. Would you enjoy flailing around for the next decade like an armless Muppet, or are you ready to obey me?”</p><p>Despite the increased beat of his heart mimicking the pulse of arousal thrumming through his veins, sending licks of flame down his body, Crowley managed to scoff. “Have you ever even watched Sesame Street?”</p><p>Aziraphale rolled his eyes and waved his hand again, and Crowley felt a force like an invisible hand cover his mouth, forming a seal so that he couldn’t speak. The realization that Aziraphale was not only in charge of his body, but even his voice, caused his heart to thump loudly in his chest, a staccato sound that echoed in his ears as a sharp tremor ran through his body. The idea was so deliciously, shamefully arousing that he felt light-headed, dizzy with the heat of it. He could feel a steady flush working its way up his neck to his face as he stared, transfixed, at the white robed angel before him, feeling as though he wouldn’t be able to look away even under threat of holy water.<br/>
</p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Oh, you <i>like</i> that, don’t you?” he whispered with an edge of surprised delight. He searched Crowley’s face with a sizzling heat in his bright eyes, hesitated, and then said with a with a tone of regret, “I need you to be able to speak so that you can tell me if I do something that makes you uncomfortable tonight but we are <i>absolutely </i> going to be discussing this later on.”<br/>
</p><p>Crowley nodded as he ducked his head self-consciously, his face burning. Aziraphale waved his hand again. Crowley remained still for a moment to settle the riotous emotions seething within him, feeling oddly unanchored now that he was freed. He then slowly shook out his arms, and ran his thumb across his lips that were still tingling with the phantom sensation of ownership. Looking at Aziraphale from under his lashes, he began removing his clothing under the angel’s focused gaze. With each peel of fabric from his skin he felt as if he was stripping his very soul bare, leaving himself exposed and vulnerable before the one being in all of eternity he trusted without reservation.<br/>
</p><p>His fingers felt stiff and clumsy; as if their sudden inability to produce miracles also made them less dexterous. His skin was increasingly feeling more sensitized, the confining press of his clothing irritating, and after what felt like far too long he finally managed to kick his jeans and pants from his feet until he stood before the angel as Adam first stood before Eve. He somewhat absently realized that he was hard, but that was a distant awareness in the background as he waited with consuming focus for his next instruction. </p><p>Aziraphale watched him appreciatively until he was finished, then walked over to a small table in the corner of the room and picked up a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass. He took a drink then turned back to run his eyes leisurely over Crowley’s body.<br/>
</p><p>“You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” His tone was less of a question than it was a statement; with a stern look that sank past the confines of Crowley’s skin, into the core of his desire to submit, to be controlled by the merest glance of those familiar blue eyes.<br/>
</p><p>“Yesss,” Crowley hissed. <i>I’ll be so good for you, only for you.</i></p><p>Aziraphale nodded approvingly and walked over to the edge of the pentagram and lifted the hem of his robe, stepping carefully over the salt circle and candles. Crowley had the stray amused thought that it might be the first time in history a summoner willingly stepped into a summoning circle with a trapped demon and expected to survive the experience.  </p><p>“Hmm, let’s see now,” Aziraphale murmured with a snap of fingers. A coiled length of rope appeared in his hand. “Oh, splendid,” the angel said with a pleased grin. “My powers seem to be unaffected.”</p><p>Crowley couldn’t help but crack a smile of utter fondness at how delighted Aziraphale sounded. Aziraphale caught his smile and slipped his arm through the coil of rope as he stepped in close to slide a hand tenderly along his cheek. Crowley closed his eyes and leaned into it, feeling as though he might fall apart from the love pouring through that simple touch. </p><p>He felt a brief press of lips against his, a whispered, “I love you,” then Aziraphale took his hand away. He opened his eyes to see Aziraphale snap his fingers again to transport the table with the whiskey inside of the circle. When he walked over to the table to set his glass down, Crowley automatically stepped forward to follow him, but Aziraphale looked at him with the merest tilt of his head and said softly, “Stop.” For all that his voice was gentle there was an edge of steel to it, a hidden razor encased in fleece, that stopped Crowley as instantly as if Aziraphale had used his powers to bind him again.</p><p>Aziraphale gave him a small approving smile and a murmured, “Good boy,” that curled a tendril of contented warmth from Crowley’s chest down to his toes. He settled back on his heels, awaiting the angel’s pleasure.</p><p>After leaving his glass on the table Aziraphale walked back to Crowley, the rope held loosely in his hand. </p><p>“Oh, yes. I’ve caught myself a most excellent specimen of a demon,” Aziraphale said appreciatively. “Hmm. I think you need a further demonstration of how utterly under my power you are. Put your hands behind your back.” </p><p>Crowley complied and felt his wrists being tied together.</p><p>“Is it too tight?”</p><p>“No…” he said, the edge of the word tinged with the barest whine.</p><p>A pause, then Aziraphale asked carefully, “Is it tight enough?”</p><p>Crowley felt his face heat again, a spreading warmth that wound down to his chest that he knew likely left him an unattractive blotchy red. He trembled as he lowered his head and breathed in and out while Aziraphale waited patiently behind him. But they had been working on this, together, to overcome his difficulty in asking for what he wanted. What he needed. <i>Breathe in. Breathe out</i>. He felt Aziraphale’s hands grasp his, his thumb stroking along his palms, and that helped ground him enough to breathe out raggedly, “No.”</p><p>“Of course my darling. I am <i>so proud</i> of you for telling me.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s praise sank into him, helping to settle his disquieting emotions. His bonds were tightened more firmly, a solid resistance against his skin as he pulled to test them.</p><p>“How does that feel?”</p><p>Crowley nodded helplessly, unable to put into words how it felt. It was beyond the tight press of rope that he <i>knew</i> he couldn’t get out of— not by strength, not by demonic means. It was Aziraphale binding him as <i>his</i>, fulfilling a <i>need</i> to belong, to give up control, to have his beloved cradle his very essence in the palm of his hand.   </p><p>Aziraphale pulled out Crowley’s hair band, arranging his hair around his shoulders. The strands brushing at his oversensitized skin sent a shiver radiating down his spine as he arched slightly, a soft groan tumbling from his lips.</p><p>“Now then. Let’s take a look at you.” Aziraphale circled around him slowly as he inspected him. He touched Crowley at torturously random intervals, trailing the pads of his fingers appreciatively over smooth biceps, over his chest, then pausing to thumb each nipple into a peak while Crowley quivered and strained against his restraints. Then the hand slid down and curled over his hip, tracing the hipbone with a with firm press of his thumb, then curving to his back to run a finger down the cleft of his buttocks with a little humm of approval at Crowley’s shuddering moan, then back to his front to slide downwards between his quivering thighs. </p><p>Aziraphale lingered there, his lashes lowered with absolute focus on his task, as he ran the edge of his fingernails slowly along Crowley’s inner thighs, before moving higher. Crowley whined softly at the maddening sensation of feeling his bollocks cupped in the angel’s hand, his hard cock twitching hopefully as Aziraphale’s hand moved upwards, but all the angel did was run his fingers lightly up his length, thumbing the moisture at the head briefly before moving away. </p><p>Crowley’s breathing increased in hitching gasps as he trembled underneath the weight of Aziraphale’s leisurely examination. He felt almost unbearably on display, as if he was an object that the angel was giving the same careful consideration to as he gave his precious rare books.</p><p>After completing his examination, Aziraphale stepped in close to encircle his hand lightly around Crowley’s straining erection. He placed his other hand on Crowley’s hip and firmly pulled him close. A pulse of heat flared, centered in his groin and flicking out to the tips of his curled fingers at being positioned where the angel wanted him, held slightly off balance, his weight on the balls of his feet. </p><p>He looked into Aziraphale’s ever changing blue eyes, darker tonight, the gray of sunset clouds. There was a flush high on his cheeks and his mouth was parted slightly, his breathing slightly uneven as he murmured huskily, “Such a delectable creature I’ve caught. Tell me, who do you belong to?”</p><p>Crowley worked his jaw open with an effort to say, <i>“You,”</i> in a shuddering rush of breath.</p><p>“Then get down on your knees and show me.”</p><p>Crowley dropped to his knees like a puppet cut from its strings, pushing his face into Aziraphale through the robe. He inhaled his scent, musky and male and <i>perfect</i> and eagerly rubbed his face against the hidden length that he felt already hard under the layer between them. He <i>burned</i> with the desire to taste, to feel him in his mouth, heavy and solid and grounding. </p><p>He heard a small sound of surprise from Aziraphale. Crowley paused and looked up. Aziraphale gazed down at him, wide eyed, seeming to devour the sight of Crowley on his knees, hands bound behind him, straining towards Aziraphale as if he were a plant starved for sunlight. </p><p>Aziraphale reached out his hand and ran it through Crowley’s hair. “Goodness, you…” he trailed off, staring. “... are <i>mine</i>,” he finished, edge of a growl to his voice as he tightened his hand into a fist that held Crowley’s head immobile. A shivering jolt slammed through Crowley, trickling sparks down each vertebrae of his spine, running wild in snapping arcs as he fell into the waves of heat emanating from Aziraphale’s eyes. His mouth fell open and words tumbled out unbidden. “Yes, yes, yours, all yours, yes <i>please</i>, more, <i>yes</i>, let me serve you.”</p><p>Aziraphale gave a little hitching gasp and fumbled at the buttons on his robe. He had difficulty unbuttoning them one handed, but seemed unwilling to let go of Crowley’s hair that he held fisted tightly in the other. With a moue of annoyance he snapped his fingers so that his robe parted and the length of him was exposed. </p><p>Crowley tried to lean forward, his mouth falling open in expectation but the hand in his hair held him back. The ghost of a whine at being denied rose and then faded as he settled back on his knees, waiting with anticipation. Every crevice, every pore of his body pulsed with the need to show Aziraphale his adoration, to make him feel even a small fraction of the love that he felt but couldn’t say to the divine being he knelt before.</p><p>Aziraphale paused, his gaze blazing, before he stepped closer and used his free hand to guide his cock into Crowley’s parted lips. “Pull away if you need to, my darling.” he whispered. He then used both hands to hold onto Crowley’s hair tightly as he slowly began thrusting in and out. </p><p>“As soon as I laid eyes on you, I just knew that you would take me so well like this, and— <i>ohhh</i>— I was right. I’m very pleased that I caught such a <i>magnificent</i> creature,” Aziraphale crooned. </p><p>Crowley’s eyelids grew heavy as he shuddered at the praise, basking in the heady sensations of servicing Aziraphale. <i>Yes, take me, let me worship you, let me be the altar upon which you find your pleasure</i>. </p><p>The pace was as hypnotically steady as a metronome, the flared cockhead nudging against the inner seal of his lips and then pushing back in, just enough for Crowley to feel the thick fullness along the length of his tongue before it was pulled back. Keeping his lips sealed around Aziraphale’s cock took hardly any effort at all, and his eyelids fluttered closed as he reveled in the hypnotic slide of movement in and out of his mouth. He didn’t need to move, to think, just surrender, secure in the knowledge that Aziraphale would take care of him. He could dimly feel the twitch of his own neglected cock, but that seemed inconsequential to the need to surrender to the divinity before him, to drink in the salty tang on his tongue, to hear the increasing hitching breaths above him, and feel the tightness of the hands in his hair. </p><p>Crowley lost all sense of time in a transcendent state of bliss. After what could have been minutes or hours Aziraphale pulled away with a shaky exhale. Crowley tried to follow, emitting a whine of dismay at being denied when the hands in his hair held him back. </p><p>“There, there, my serpent. I’m not done with you yet.” Aziraphale’s voice was breathless but firm as he released Crowley’s hair and smoothed it back lovingly. Crowley blinked his heavy eyelids open with a struggle to look up at Aziraphale standing tall above him gazing back with that heated darkness still in his eyes. He leaned heavily into Aziraphale’s hand, which paused in its caress. His touch turned more proprietary, pressing down firmly on Crowley’s head and then he let go, huffing out a shaky breath as he stepped back. He buttoned a few of the buttons on his robe with a somewhat absent minded focus as he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from Crowley kneeling before him, and then turned away with visible effort, his erection tenting his robe luridly as he walked over to the table and took a long drink from his glass. </p><p>He slid his eyes over to Crowley. “Would you like some?” he asked, raising the glass.</p><p>Crowley nodded.</p><p>“Then come over here.”</p><p>Crowley started to rise but Aziraphale shook his head.</p><p>“On your knees,” he said firmly.</p><p>Crowley settled back down and shuffled over, his shins sliding over the intersecting lines of the pentagram. When he stopped Aziraphale tilted the glass into his mouth and the smoky burn of whiskey trickled down his throat. The angel then bent down and grasped his hair to pull his head back and kissed him roughly, crushing his mouth against Crowley’s.  </p><p>His mouth was a seal, his tongue a possession, and Crowley arched into him as much as he could, his arms straining against their bonds. A whine sounded deep in his throat at the unmistakable raw <i>hunger</i> in the force of Aziraphale’s kiss. After licking the last taste of whiskey from his mouth, Aziraphale pulled back enough to lean their foreheads together, breathing heavily, then with a grunt of effort, let go and stepped back. His storm blue eyes looked down at Crowley with something unusually possessive radiating from them that caused the simmering snarl of need within the demon to further settle, to ease, a tide ebbing back from a rocky shore.  </p><p>Aziraphale let the silence linger as he took another drink, then said, “You may stand now.” He set down the glass and helped Crowley stand on shaky legs and then untied his hands. He turned Crowley to face him and rubbed his wrists gently, raising each to kiss the reddened skin. His eyes were steady on Crowley with each press of his lips as he whispered “I love you.”</p><p>“I know, angel.”</p><p>“Do you want this?”</p><p>He shivered, but pushed through his difficulty in acknowledging his desires. “Yes.” </p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes were like an electric current, locking all of his muscles into place so that he couldn’t break free. “Do you need this?”</p><p><i>“Yesss,”</i> Crowley ground out.</p><p>His hands twitched into claws under the galvanic sensation snapping within him. He was utterly vulnerable, <i>needy</i> in ways no demon should be, and an edge of panic curled like red smoke into his fog of calm. He ducked his head against the impulse to hide like a snake slithering under a rock, safe from prying eyes. </p><p>A warm voice cut through his rising panic, softly coaxing him back from the edge. “Crowley. Can you look at me, my dearest?”</p><p>Yes. </p><p>Of course he could look at the angel, at his anchor, his weighted blanket, his insulation against white hot snapping currents. He opened his eyes slowly, lifting them with some effort to meet the blue grey eyes that were watching him with such understanding, such softness, he felt as if he could fall into them, curling into the inviting safety of his divinity. </p><p>Aziraphale stepped in close and slid his hands on either side of Crowley’s face. He held him in the light cage of his hands as he kissed him so tenderly Crowley felt as if he might fall apart from it. He then leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Crowley, his breath a warm brush against his ear as he murmured, “I’ve got you. You’re safe. I love you.” </p><p>His voice was soothing, a steadying wave pushing away the red tendrils. Crowley felt as if Aziraphale’s arms not only held his body, but also held his very essence tightly, giving him the pressure he needed to help ground himself again. He breathed in and out, breathing in the angel’s comforting scent of something indefinable that simply smelled like <i>home</i>. </p><p>“Do you want to keep going?”</p><p>His arms rose up and gripped Aziraphale tightly, his hands fisting in his robe. <i>“Fuck yes,”</i> he said vehemently.</p><p>Aziraphale chuckled softly. “Of course, darling. Let’s just take a break for a moment, shall we?” </p><p>Crowley made a noise and buried his head into Aziraphale’s neck and they stood for a time, holding each other, while Aziraphale minutely rocked them from side to side. He absorbed the reassuring press of arms around them, then after a short time lifted his head and nodded. Aziraphale looked at him searchingly, then pressed a lingering kiss to his lips with a smile and stepped back. He snapped his fingers and a post appeared in the middle of the pentagon. </p><p>“Hold on to the post and don’t let go until I give you permission.”</p><p>The swell of heat that had eased to a simmer during their embrace rose with fierce swiftness as Crowley absorbed the command and walked over to wrap his hands around the post. He heard another snap, then Aziraphale moved to the front of him and lifted a black blindfold with his eyebrow raised in query. Crowley nodded with a shiver of anticipation and Aziraphale stepped forward to place it around his eyes, tying it in back and running his fingers around the edges to ensure no light was coming through. </p><p>He then felt himself being positioned. He shuddered as hands slid between his legs to push them apart to widen his stance, lingering touches caressing his inner thighs. His hands were guided to grip lower on the pole so that he was slightly leaning over, making him feel utterly and deliciously exposed. </p><p>Hands traveled down his spine, curving around his buttocks, tracing downwards between his legs to cup his tightening balls, then away to move up his chest, pinching each nipple gently to bring them back into a peak that shot tingles of shimmering need dancing across his flesh. The sliding caresses were firm; possessive even, as if Aziraphale’s hand could speak to Crowley’s skin and whisper <i>mine mine mine</i>. </p><p><i>Oh</i>, he had imagined this, countless times, often while his own hand was furiously pumping on his straining cock, his hips snapping upward in helpless frenzy. Being Summoned and utterly under Aziraphale’s power, used for his pleasure. But <i>this</i>, having his dark buried fantasy become reality was so much <i>more</i> than he ever thought it could be. He was drifting in absolute darkness, his limbs feeling heavier, his mind settling further with each gliding caress. His cock had softened during their embrace but was quickly stiffening again, that familiar heat pooling in his groin. A moan tumbled from his mouth as, unexpectedly, an oiled hand slid over that part of him rising up and began stroking. Just as he was adjusting to the new sensation his hips jerked forward as a lubricated finger pressed against his entrance, paused, and then slid into him, stroking in tandem with the hand on his cock.  </p><p>Aziraphale kept the pace of his hands torturously slow. Despite that, the heavy pleasure in his groin steadily rose until his breath started catching in a rhythm that was outpacing the stroking, and his moans became more urgent. He was teetering on the edge of release when Aziraphale stopped, and maddingly moved his hands away, swallowing Crowley’s whine as he grasped his hair and pulled his head back to kiss him thoroughly, running his hand up and down soothingly on Crowley’s back until his shuddering eased. When Crowley was pliant under him once more, Aziraphale slid his hands back down and started stroking him to start the slow build all over again. </p><p>This went on again, and again, and again, until Crowley lost count of how many times he was left whining and panting, utterly lost in the maddening sensation of being so close to achieving release and then being denied. </p><p>As this went on, Aziraphale kept up a steady murmur of “You’re mine to do with what I will. You’re helpless under my power. I can keep you on the brink of climax until you’re begging me for release for the rest of eternity if I so choose. I’m going to use you for my own pleasure again, and again, and again, and there is <i>nothing</i> you can do to stop me…”</p><p>Crowley keened, his entire awareness focused on the feeling of Aziraphale’s hands and the sound of his voice. He felt Aziraphale press against his side, those clever fingers finding their way around him, in him until Crowley was shaking and pleading, his cock a leaking ache of want as he gasped out, nearly in tears, “Oh, please, angel, oh <i>please</i>…”</p><p>Aziraphale removed his hands and said soothingly, “You may let go now.”</p><p>For a long moment, Crowley didn’t know what he meant. He felt as if he had already let go, drifting in a haze but then realized he was still clutching at the post as if it was a lifeline. His trembling knees unlocked, then promptly gave out and he slid down to the floor, Aziraphale catching him to ease his fall. He unclenched his hands from the post with an effort and placed them flat on the ground, the coolness of the wood floor under his palms soothing against his heated skin. </p><p>His blindfold was untied and he blinked his eyes open in a daze to see that Aziraphale had removed his robe. Crowley was a shattered mess of desire, unable to form any thoughts more coherent than a pulsing chant of <i>want— need— more</i>.</p><p>“Get on your hands and knees,” Aziraphale commanded. Crowley scrambled to obey, his limbs clumsy but trembling with eagerness as Aziraphale arranged him to his liking, and then kneeled behind him. </p><p>“You’re helpless aren’t you, my dear sweet demon?” Aziraphale asked, his voice deep and rough at the edges. “So utterly and completely in my power.”</p><p>Crowley keened as he felt Aziraphale’s cock nudging against his entrance, wanting nothing more than to feel that gloriously hard shaft inside of him. Aziraphale began pushing himself inside in tortuously slow increments, and Crowley tried to push his hips backwards to take him in more fully. But Aziraphale grasped his hips firmly, holding Crowley immobile. </p><p>“Oh, no you don’t. It would behoove you to remember that you’re not in control, you foul fiend. You are <i>mine</i> to do with what I will.”</p><p>Crowley moaned, “Faster, angel, <i>please</i>—”</p><p>“That’s not up to you, now is it?” Aziraphale purred. “I get to decide how I want to take you. I can take you as slow as I’d like, or as forcefully—” he emphasized with a strong thrust of his hips, as Crowley wailed in ecstasy, “as I want and you can’t do a single thing to prevent me.”</p><p>Aziraphale rolled his hips at a steady pace, his wonderfully strong hands holding Crowley firmly in place. Crowley’s breathing came faster in hitching gasps, his straining cock leaking onto the pentagram below them.</p><p>“Such a gorgeous, kind-hearted demon I’ve caught myself.”</p><p>“M’not kind,” Crowley gasped, as a wave of arousal hit him so hard he nearly collapsed to the floor with the force of it. One of his elbows did give out, but he caught himself before falling completely, and he braced his weight on his forearm, the other hand flat on the floor to keep himself more or less on his hands and knees as Aziraphale had commanded him. </p><p>“Yes, you are,” the angel said, something darkly wicked emanating from his voice. “The sweetest, most delectable treat I’ve ever tasted. So very considerate, and tender, and loving—” </p><p>Crowley shuddered against the biting storm of praise, his body aflame to the point he felt as if he could ignite, but shook his head stubbornly as he gasped out, “M’ not, I’m a <i>demon</i>, ‘M not any of those things.”</p><p>“Shush now…” he felt Aziraphale lean forward, the plush swell of his belly flush against Crowley’s back and placed a hand over his mouth, muffling his protests. Aziraphale pressed a kiss to Crowley’s shoulder as he whispered, “Raise or tap your hand if you need me to stop, my love.”</p><p>Aziraphale paused, then resumed speaking in that dark honey sweet voice. As he spoke his hips moved forward to punctuate his words, every push a delicious drag inside of Crowley, undoing him further and further, his muffled moans and whines trapped behind the angel’s hand. </p><p>“You are a wondrous sight to behold. It’s as if Hell shaped you for my pleasure. I’ve never desired anything—<i>ahhh</i>— as much as I desire you. You will yield to me, my precious darling demon. And I will <i>take</i> you, <i>claim</i> you as mine, forever. I will <i>never</i> let you go. I’ll leave you in this summoning circle, waiting to serve my pleasure for the rest of eternity… <i>ohhh</i>...” he broke off as his hips snapped forward in a deep thrust, before resuming a steady pace.</p><p>Crowley shook and trembled under the onslaught of words and pleasure, feeling Aziraphale’s hand like a claim of ownership over his mouth that called to something deep inside of him to surrender. </p><p>Aziraphale removed his hand and pulled away, causing Crowley to whimper in protest at the loss. </p><p>“Just— just turn over please, my darling. I need to hold you.” Aziraphale sounded wrecked, raw need dripping from his voice. </p><p>Crowley twisted his body around to fall limply to the ground, already reaching for the angel who came to him with bright hungry eyes. He pressed back in between Crowley’s welcoming thighs as Crowley threw his head back at the exquisite sensations of surrendering, of being so utterly possessed, that he could feel his own control slipping away, even over his corporation. He gasped as he felt his incisors lengthen and talons grow, helpless to revert back.</p><p>“Angel, <i>angel</i>, I— nguh, <i>more</i>—”</p><p>Aziraphale mouthed at his neck and sucked a bruise into his skin. Finally, <i>finally</i> the rhythm of his hips became more forceful, demanding, a powerful force of claiming with each thrust against that exquisite place within him that made Crowley mindless with pleasure. A hand reached up to cradle Crowley’s head as Aziraphale commanded, his voice choppy from exertion, “Tell me who you belong to.” </p><p>“<i>You</i>, angel, <i>always</i> you,” Crowley cried out, his back arching, his love for the angel expanding, filling every part of him until there was room for nothing else. His cock slid against Aziraphale’s plush belly with each thrust of the angel’s hips, the swiftly rising tide of his climax pulsing just out of reach until he was in a helpless frenzy, writhing, pulling, and scratching at Aziraphale’s back as if he could somehow pull him closer and into his skin.</p><p>“I’ve got you, you’re mine, my demon, my love, give yourself to me.” Aziraphale moaned the words out as if he could barely hold himself back, his rolling hips thrusting as if he couldn’t get deep enough, and that unraveled the final tight coil left within Crowley, and he spiraled outwards in a slamming force of ecstasy, and Aziraphale was there to catch him, pull him back close, and they became one in a frenzy of claiming before drifting gently apart. </p><p>His eyes closed, he floated in a warm limp darkness that was eventually disrupted by Aziraphale’s arms sliding under his knees and neck, as the angel picked him up effortlessly. Crowley couldn’t manage much more than to crack his eyes open a tiny amount and curl into him, his head lolling onto the angel’s shoulder. Aziraphale pressed a kiss to his forehead and strode to the edge of the pentagram. He swept his foot out, breaking the circle, and extinguished the candles with a wave of his hand. </p><p>Crowley twitched as something he hadn’t realized was missing snapped into place, but before he could think about it too much Aziraphale snapped his fingers and teleported them to their bedroom. </p><p>He slid Crowley under the covers and then crawled in beside him, pulling Crowley into his lap and taking his time in tucking the blankets tightly around both of them, ensuring every part was in a snug cocoon before settling back against the headboard. He nestled Crowley against his chest and ran his free hand up and down Crowley's body under the blanket as he whispered soft intimacies into his ear. “I’ve got you... you’re mine, and I’m yours. You’re safe, and oh, so loved…”</p><p>Crowley breathed slowly and deeply, luxuriating in the absolute certainty that he was where he was meant to be, listening to the beloved cadence of Aziraphale’s voice as if from somewhere far away. After a time Crowley became more aware of the feel of the blanket against his skin and the tickle of chest hairs against his arm and he stirred, lifting his head.</p><p>“Mmm. Back with me?” Aziraphale murmured, as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips. </p><p>Crowley uncurled his arms with some effort to wrap them around that beloved soft body. </p><p>“Always with you angel.”</p><p>“Sleep now my love. I’ve got you.”</p><p>Crowley let his eyes drift close. It felt almost odd, the absence of the shimmering restlessness that constantly seethed under the surface of his skin. He nestled closer into those protective arms and once again, let himself go.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <i>Endless amounts of gratitude go to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurashapiro/pseuds/Laura%20Shapiro">LauraShapiro</a> Mere words cannot express what a GODDESS she was at providing me with detailed feedback and cheerleading that helped shape this story into something SO much better than my early attempts. Thank you from the depths of my writerly heart. She is also a goddess at writing explicit spicy fics herself, so if you enjoy that kind of thing please do check out her work and give her all of the woohoo comments that she deserves. </i>
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  <i>The credit for the Pope Aziraphale line goes to D3s3rtb0undN3k0matta, I shower gratitude on them and Vios_Shadow for their graciousness of taking an early peek and helping me smooth out the edges. </i>
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  <i>Other Good Omens stories of mine: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22609303/chapters/54034240">An Opportune Storm</a>, 2 chapters. <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28302003">Teach Me Your Lessons, Teach Me Your Touch</a>, 1 chapter. Both pure spicy fluff about Crowley and Aziraphale's first time being intimate together, if you like that sort of thing. Which I do. Which is why I wrote it. </i>
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  <i><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26175502/chapters/63693454">Cinders Bound by Golden Crown</a>, 22 chapter Good Omens Cinderella AU. </i>
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  <i><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989973/chapters/54963736">Jagged Edge of Seduction</a>, a 18 chapter story about the progression of their relationship. Mind the tags and warning.</i>
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  <i>I love to chat about anything Good Omens; my writing, your writing, whether or not ducks have ears...! Feel free to chat or follow me on Tumblr: @ajconstantine; <a href="https://ajconstantine.tumblr.com/">AJ Constantine</a> or on Discord: AJ Constantine#0325</i>
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